


Waking Up At Kristoff's

by MSSmysterygirl



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSSmysterygirl/pseuds/MSSmysterygirl
Summary: Elsa is the first to kiss me, but Kristoff is the first to touch me.  Her lips in combination with his hands has me reeling within seconds.  I’m dizzy, aching, buzzing with need.  It’s been what, like, three hours since I’ve had them?  And I’m already dying for it.





	Waking Up At Kristoff's

The peanut butter jar lid will _not freaking come off_ and I just woke up, like, two seconds ago so my muscles aren’t working and can’t _someone_ come get this stupid lid off for me?  I get a dishtowel from beside the sink and, holding the jar between my thighs and using the towel for grip, finally manage to twist hard enough.

“This is _my_ breakfast,” I tell Sven, the boxer dog, as he looks on wistfully, hoping to steal a bite of my peanut butter toast.  Or, you know, the whole piece.  “You already had yours, I fed you ten minutes ago.”

“But _Anna,_ ” I say, making a voice for Sven. “It’s been nine and a half whole minutes since I ate anything.  I’m _starving!”_   Scratching behind one of Sven’s floppy ears, I take my peanut butter toast and coffee that I brewed when I first came downstairs and head to the kitchen table.  The clock on the microwaves reads 9:09 AM.  I’m not usually up at this time on a Sunday but Sven was tromping around in his crate at the ungodly hour of 8:50 and, for some unfair reason, _I_ was the only one who seemed to hear him.

Moving an article of clothing off one of the chairs at the kitchen table (where _else_ had our clothes ended up last night?  I’ll have to go on a scavenger hunt), I sit down and start eating my breakfast.  God knows there wasn’t much in the pantry but thankfully I found peanut butter, also known as my life blood.  Without peanut butter, I’d most certainly starve.  And the coffee is halfway decent, even if it’s probably been sitting in the cupboard since the dawn of time.

Sven prances around the table counter-clockwise, his ears and jowls flopping to and fro, stopping every so often to beg for a small bit of peanut butter toast.  He knows I can’t refuse him when he does that thing where his lip gets snagged on his tooth and he looks like a complete dork.  In the end, Sven ends up eating more of my toast than I do and I go searching for something else to eat because _of course_ I’m still hungry.

“What the hell, man…” I grumble when I open the refrigerator door and find three half-empty jars of salsa, some crusty string cheeses, a slimy bag of salad mix that was never opened, four six-packs of beer and nothing else.  “Note to self: go grocery shopping later because this is abominable.”

Slamming the refrigerator closed, I settle for an extra spoonful of peanut butter (since now I can get the lid off) and start the task of locating all the errant pieces of clothes that were flung to god-knows-where during last nights activities.  In the space of five minutes, I find a pair of jeans hanging off the banister of the staircase, a bra hung by its strap on the doorknob of the hall bathroom, a shoe in the fishtank (sorry, Spike!) and panties on the back of the couch.  _Dang,_ I think, _we really_ did _go all over the house, didn’t we?_

As I sort the articles of clothing I’ve collected from around the house into ‘his’ and ‘hers’ piles, my mind wanders.  The coffee is starting to kick in and my brain is _working,_ remembering last night.  The club.  The music.  The _dancing._   Oh, the dancing.  The impatient cab ride.  Then clothing everywhere, hands, lips, skin, desperate, hot, fervid and then finally sweet, _sweet_ release.  Falling into bed in an exhausted heap, all tangled up in one another only to wake up sometime in the early morning hours and do it all again.

I’m anxious.  _What time is it?_   Too early to go back in there and initiate it again?  How many times would this be?  Three?  Four?  That’s not too many, is it?

I lock Sven back in his crate (puppy eyes be damned; it’s a big crate, plenty of room — he needs to get over himself) and tiptoe back into the bedroom.  I slip beneath the rumpled covers, running my hands over a muscled back and a smooth leg simultaneously.  Two pairs of eyes - one brown, one blue - blink sleepily up at me in the soft morning sunlight.

Elsa is the first to kiss me, but Kristoff is the first to touch me.  Her lips in combination with his hands has me reeling within seconds.  I’m dizzy, aching, buzzing with need.  It’s been what, like, three hours since I’ve had them?  And I’m already dying for it.

Kristoff’s still too drained from the last time to go right away, so Elsa and I are free to play for a bit.  We’ve known each other for years but this particular part of our relationship is relatively new.  Kristoff tells us often that he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.  I can relate; Elsa is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my _life_ and I’m sorry it took me so damn long to figure out how I actually felt about her.  And as for Kristoff… he’s so strong and so masculine.  I feel safe and loved when he holds me and let’s not even _talk_ about the way his hands and other body parts make me feel.

Elsa’s moaning softly as I awaken her body with mine.  Her breasts react, nipples tightening under my tongue and hand, her hips rolling lightly against my thigh where it presses between her legs.  I kiss my way down and run my tongue along her slit and she gasps, wide awake now.  “Oh _Anna,”_ she whimpers, clenching the sheets in her fists.  Kristoff climbs behind her and lets her recline against his chest, his hands tweaking and rolling her sensitive peaks as I work on her below.

I catch her hips with my arms, encircling her thighs to hold her against me and drawing an achingly sweet aria out of her as I work her up toward bliss.  Gently pressing two fingers inside her aching core, I make my tongue strokes gentle on her clit as I tease that magic spot inside her.  She cries out, bucking against me, and Kristoff wraps one strong arm around her ribs to hold her in place.  My own center is aching with desire but I absolutely _adore_ making Elsa come.  She tastes wonderful and the sounds she makes… there’s just nothing better.

“Jesus Christ, that’s hot,” Kristoff grumbles.  He’ll never tire of seeing Elsa and me together, or so he says.

Elsa’s moans and gasps rise to a crescendo, punctuated by some expletives and affirmations and I know she’s so close.  I hear Kristoff murmuring in her ear - she _loves_ dirty talk - and in a matter of seconds she’s writhing helplessly against my face and hand, her whole body pulsing and throbbing under and around me.  “Oh _yes,_ oh _YES!”_ she cries, her head thrown back against Kristoff’s broad chest.

When she can once again breathe and put words together, Elsa grabs ahold of my hair and tugs upward.  I move up a few inches, kissing my way back up along her body, but she’s impatient and catches me by the upper arm and hauls me all the way up so I’m straddling her and our faces are even.  “Kiss me,” she whispers, and I’m happy to oblige.  She lets out a soft little moan and I know she can taste herself on my lips and tongue, which I slide against her lower lip.  

“Uhhh,” Kristoff groans from behind Elsa, making us both smile.  He’s clearly frustrated.  

“All right, all right,” Elsa sighs, pressing me backwards and sitting up.  She extricates herself from between Kristoff’s body and mine.  “You’ve been _so_ patient,” she says, finding a spot perpendicular to Kristoff and running her elegant, slender hand down his rock hard chest and abdomen.  He’s hard, standing at attention.  No doubt he was pressing himself against Elsa’s back that whole time.  Elsa wraps her hand lightly around his shaft, up near the head, then slides it down to the base and back up a few times.  Kristen’s head crashes back against the headboard and he can’t stifle the desperate moan that bubbles up from within.

After a few seconds of this, Elsa leaves her post at Kristoff’s side and sidles up behind me.  I can feel her breasts pressing into my back as she places her hands on my hips and guides me forward until Kristoff’s member is pressing up against my slick center.  Elsa hooks her chin onto my shoulder, her breath tickling my ear as she whispers, “I want you to ride him.”  _There’s_ my bossy girl; there’s the Elsa I know.  

Dropping my own head back against her shoulder, I waste no time in lifting myself up and hovering over Kristoff, waiting there.  Elsa is the puppet master now.  Kristoff and I are but marionettes who will reap the pleasure of our puppeteer’s skill.  Elsa places pressure on my hips, pressing me _down_ and in one motion I take all of Kristoff inside of me.  

We groan in unison.  He fills me so completely, so _deeply,_ that I just sit there for several seconds, my body simultaneously adjusting to and enjoying the intrusion.  Being careful not to accidentally whack Elsa’s chin with my shoulder, I start gently moving.  Rocking back and forth, up and down, Kristoff’s length disappearing in me with each stroke.  Elsa’s hands are still on my hips, guiding me.  In and out.  Up and down.  Back and forth.  Again and again.

“Mmm,” I gasp as a tingle races all over my body.  The angle is just right that Kristoff is rubbing up against that wonderful, mysterious spot inside my body (that I’ve never been able to find on my own but Elsa or Kristoff manages to get it every time) that will, no doubt, deliver me to that promised land of bliss if we keep up this way.  

“That feel good?” Elsa coos in my ear, one hand leaving it’s post on my hip to wander up and massage one of my breasts.  I’m not as sensitive in that area as Elsa is but it still feels nice.  She can get off just from nipple play.  I can’t, but it adds a nice layer of sensation.  

I ride Kristoff this way for another few minutes, our bodies slapping together as our paces increase steadily.  

One thing we agreed on early in this arrangement was that if there was something we wanted to see, we’d ask for it.  In keeping with this, Kristoff grinds out, “Elsa.. t-touch her..”  

“I _am_ touching her, Kris,” Elsa chuckles.  “Oh,” she feigns surprise, “you mean _here?”_   Her hand slowly leaves my breast and slides down to where my body meets Kristoff’s.  Her fingers find my clit and somehow, despite the pace at which I’m moving, manage to press against it and rub.  

“Fuck!” I cry out, my hips jerking at the sensation of Elsa’s hand _on_ me in addition to Kristoff’s shaft buried _in_ me.  It’s so much.  It’s not enough.  I need more.  “More, _more,”_ I beg, not really sure what I’m asking for.  Kristoff, however, seems to have an idea and grabs ahold of my hips, chasing Elsa’s other hand out of the way, and angles himself even more forward.  His length presses repeatedly against my g-spot and I’m literally seeing stars.  “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I pant, my head turned so my lips are against Elsa’s neck.  My hips are trembling and I’m thankful Elsa is basically holding me up because I’m not sure I’d be upright otherwise.

“Mmm, that’s right,” Elsa’s voice drips like honey.  “Let me hear you.  You sound so amazing when you come.”  Amazingly, her hand picks up speed, circling and pressing against my clit feverishly.  I’m bucking against her and taking Kristoff along for the ride.  His angle inside me just completes everything.  My muscles are starting to flutter and clench around him, I can feel it.

Obviously he can feel it too because he speaks through clenched teeth.  “Fuuuuck, Anna.  Almost there.”  A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead his jaw is clenched, making the small muscles around his jawbone twitch minutely.  I can’t actually _see_ this right now but I know how he looks at this point.  Elsa wraps her arm loosely around my middle, keeping me in the same position I’m in but still allowing me to move.  It’s like she’s reminding me that she’s there — as if I could forget!

We move like this, in sync, for maybe another twenty seconds and then I feel myself starting to come undone.  The pleasure that’s been building steadily in the center of my body is reaching unbearable heights.  I’m so close to orgasm that it almost hurts.  “Uh, uhh, Kris…” I whine.  I’m about to say something like _don’t stop_ , but before I can, all the pleasure building in all my nerve endings pulls tight into one, small, searing hot ball and then bursts like a firework, the pressure releasing all at once and blowing my mind wide open.  “AAAHHH!” is literally all I can say.  Or, rather, scream.  

Vaguely, I can hear Kristoff grunting and feel him twitching inside me.  From very far away, Elsa’s voice — “so good, so good, you love it so much.”  My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.  Just like last night (and early this morning, twice) we all fall into a heap, tangled up in each other.  It’s well into morning at this point but it’s Sunday — none of us have anything on our agenda for today.  

Waking up at Kristoff’s is always the best.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Haha. -MSS xo


End file.
